Government's Fourth Branch

JAMES G. DRISCOLL - Editorial Writer

April 19, 1998|JAMES G. DRISCOLL and Editorial Writer

Florida's infamous pawnshop law was written by the fourth and most powerful branch of government: lobbyists. Not by the executive, legislative or judicial branches I learned about in high-school civics class during the Boer War.

In the three legally constituted but archaic branches, there's a degree of accountability to the public, however grudging. Voters, if provoked to raw fury, can remove any state legislator or Cabinet member in the next election.

Judges at local levels can face occasional election revolt. It's even possible for Floridians to remove an appellate judge by voting no on merit retention, no matter how unlikely that nay may be.

Lobbyists? They're not elected, not appointed and not accountable to the likes of me. Nor to thee, unless you hire one.

In two years, Tallahassee lobbyists will ratchet up their already formidable clout. That's when Florida's term-limit law for state legislators reaches the eight-year mark, meaning dozens of experienced elected representatives will be forced to find honest work.

In their places will be wide-eyed rookies, easy marks for the kind of hazing that recently tricked new Rep. Ken Gottlieb, Hollywood Democrat, into introducing a bill favored enthusiastically by the Republican Speaker. When the vacuum of power emerges in 2000, say supposedly wise analysts, state bureaucrats and old-time legislative staffers will take over and run the government.

No cigar. Lobbyists will be more influential than ever, pulling strings from the catbird seat, making Gottlieb look like a legislative sophisticate next to gullible newcomers in office.

By then, the current 131-page book of registered legislative lobbyists _ listed by name, organization and special interest _ will be notably fatter. There are big bucks in lobbying, as evidenced by the ubiquitous Ronald L. Book, who counts Broward County's government among his 40 clients in Tallahassee.

For carrying Broward's message, Book is paid $20,000 a month in taxpayers' money. Multiply by 12, add estimates of income from 39 other clients and hurry to register as a lobbyist.

When Frank Messersmith was merely an undistinguished state representative from Palm Beach County, he looked like a surfer and always finished last in net worth among South Florida legislators. Look at him now: A sleek lobbyist with 22 clients _ among them such giants as Associated General Contractors, Burdines and Walt Disney World.

With a classy haircut, conservative but stylish clothes, bulging briefcase and cell phone plastered to his ear, Messersmith resembles every other lobbyist in Tallahassee. They take nearly every seat in committee hearing rooms, hang around outside the House and Senate chambers, prowl corridors of the Capitol and legislators' office buildings and seem to dominate the process.

At times, legislators get fed up. Sen. Ron Silver, D-North Miami Beach, was smiling but half serious when he suggested clearing every lobbyist from a hearing room. All those briefcases, cell phones, honeyed words.

Lobbyists come in all income levels. Some toil for little or nothing, on behalf of poor children or other noble causes.

All lobbyists, noble or ignoble, are protected by the constitutional right to petition legislators. It's not that lobbyists can be perceived as evil _ meaning not on your side _ that's troubling. It's that their influence is little understood and not scrutinized closely, if at all.

During one intense skirmish in Tallahassee's tobacco wars, 53 lobbyists for cigarette makers were assigned to the 40 state senators. On that day, tobacco and its lobbyists lost _ but what an example of pervasiveness, of unleashing raw power in large numbers.

In 1996, in contrast, pawnshop lobbyists trampled the Florida Legislature, with the essential help of their puppet, Sen. Fred Dudley, R-Cape Coral. The shameless Dudley, then dating a pawn industry lobbyist, didn't hesitate to shove the pawnshop bill through the legislature, although every word of it was written by the industry's lobbyists.

In 1997 the tenacious Sen. Walter ``Skip'' Campbell, D-Tamarac, reversed many of the law's repugnant provisions. Now burglary victims at least have a better chance to get back their goods from a pawnshop.

As the term-limit exodus nears, be wary of lobbyists accountable only to their bosses. Their power will grow; count on it.